


Cold War Transmissions

by dracoqueen22



Category: Transformers (Bay Movies), X-Men: First Class (2011) - Fandom
Genre: Crossover, Gen, Humor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-06-10
Updated: 2012-06-10
Packaged: 2017-11-07 10:24:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 716
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/429999
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dracoqueen22/pseuds/dracoqueen22
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hello, Soundwave. Meet my telepathic friend. Also, beware the man who can manipulate magnetic fields.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Cold War Transmissions

**Author's Note:**

> I thank azardarkstar for the bunny for this. The title is borrowed from the song of the same name by Anberlin.

Soundwave is not having a good orn. To be perfectly honest, he hasn't been having a good vorn. But having been thoroughly trounced by a fleshling on this backwater mudball is making this orn particularly humiliating. Especially when it’s with a power that Soundwave himself claims to master.  
  
His processor aches. His overheated core is throbbing. He feels like he doesn't fit within his frame. His struts are wobbly. His wires are twisted and bent. He can't access a good many of his memory files. His neural pathways are on the fritz. But he hasn't even a dent on his frame.  
  
What makes it all the more galling is that the fragged squishy has the audacity to look _apologetic_ about handing Soundwave his utter defeat and humiliation.  
  
If Starscream could see him now...  
  
“I am sorry, my friend,” the organic says, two fingers still pressed to his cranium as he looks Soundwave over from top to bottom, seemingly unbothered by the kneeling machine of death looming over him. “But, you see, it is not in my nature to allow anyone to destroy my _mind_. You understand, of course.”  
  
Soundwave spits out a static-laced response in Cybertronian that’s less than polite and his symbiotes would thoroughly shocked to hear him say such curses. But it is a situation that calls for nothing less.  
  
 _Soundwave: Not amused._  
  
“Charles!”  
  
Anger bombards Soundwave's sensors from all directions. He unconsciously cringes, processor sluggish and soupy.  
  
“Oh dear,” the organic – Charles – says and his gaze flicks to the rapidly approaching human and back to Soundwave. “Erik, I'm _fine_.”  
  
And yet, within moments, the situation is sized and Soundwave is the focus of all that _rage_. It takes a single, aching moment for him to access the data file reminding him what caused Barricade to be a pile of scrap metal. As those green organic optics glare at Soundwave, radiating fury, something cold sweeps through his internals.  
  
 _Soundwave: Future uncertain._  
  
“Erik, really--”  
  
The world turns upside down and sideways. Soundwave feels his entire frame lift into the air and slam back down again, impacting with unforgiving earth. His limbs crumple, and energon springs from a hundred leaks. Again, the invisible force lifts and drops him. Over and over. Pulling his limbs. Twisting his insides. Turning him into a convoluted mass of crumpled metal.  
  
Just like Barricade.  
  
And then Soundwave is dropped a final time – on his head for that matter – where he has only half an optic left to see. _Pain_ registers from every sensor.  
  
“I do apologize,” the telepath says again, leaning over and patting him on the head – or what's left of it – like some kind of organic pet. “He's rather protective of me. Even when I don't need it.”  
  
His frame twitches.  
  
 _Soundwave: Pain._  
  
“I hope this doesn't interfere with future attempts to communicate.” He can all but hear the smile in the human’s voice, even if he can’t quite see it. “We’ve a lot we could learn from one another.”  
  
The human disappears from view. Soundwave's few functioning sensors detect him leaving, footsteps hurrying to catch up with metal-crumpling counterpart.  
  
“Honestly, Erik. I was handling that perfectly fine on my own.”  
  
“Not from where I was standing.”  
  
“And just _where_ were you standing?”  
  
“It's a figure of speech, Charles.”  
  
“I know that. Was turning him into a metal scrapheap really necessary?”  
  
Soundwave, as much as he would despise admitting so to himself, recognizes the element of truth in the organic's statement. He does resemble a scrap heap right now, one no amount of self-repair will be able to fix. His best hope is to contact the Decepticons for retrieval, sometime before Barricade permanently offlines. If he hasn’t already.  
  
That is, of course, when a few frayed connectors finally establish a circuit, and he realizes that his communications system has been completely slagged. If not the telepath’s aggressive mind wipe, then the other’s winding and warping of every metallic inch of him had finished the job.  
  
If Soundwave were human, he would’ve sighed. In his present state, he could do little more than twitch. And ache. And override each recommendation that he resort to stasis lock.  
  
Eventually, someone would come for him. Until then, Soundwave would have to power down and plot the untimely demise of his new, squishy nemesis.  
  
*****


End file.
